Illinois Chronicles
by shabbacabba
Summary: The only survivors of a small town in central Illinois battle their way across the state in search of a safe zone.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Basically this is the infection if it were to hit my hometown and the adventures me and the other survivors would have. I have a general plan of where I'm going with this, but I am open to suggestions!

_I always knew that civilization would be brought to its knees by it. I spent countless hours researching the enemy of humanity, in all its forms. I had plans for any turn of events. Even the slow, shambling brain eaters that required a head shot or decapitation. _

_I always knew that those monsters of Romero's mind were impossible, so I was more prepared for the other incarnation. The one that truly scared me. _

_Fast-zombies. _

_They would be people infected with a form of super rabies that would make them want to kill anyone that wasn't infected. I didn't prepare enough._

_I hadn't expected the mutations. _

_The hooded assassin, more commonly called The Hunter, could easily render flesh from bone as well as limbs from the torso. They have one purpose, the elimination of the immune._

_The Smoker's tongue can reach up to one-hundred and fifty feet, wrap around a person, and drag them away from their friends. They aren't mindless; they'll hide if seen and wait for people to separate before striking. But that is a trait that all special infected share._

_The Boomer is simple. He/she contains a putrid smelling liquid that attracts any common infected in the area. Projectile vomiting in it worst form. They explode when shot in the torso, showering a ten foot radius with their disgusting bile._

_Finally there is the Tank. I prefer to call them B.A.M.s (Big Ass Monster). Standing roughly eight feet tall with an upper torso that is so muscular it is able to lift cars and smash through walls with ease. But they're slow, and very stupid, just outrun them. _

I looked up from my writing for a moment to ponder the past two week's events.

The infection had hit from out of nowhere. New York, Paris, London, and countless other cities had fallen into complete chaos in days. CEDA's response was simply to tell people to lock their doors ands windows. _Lot of good that did._ The entire east coast was gone in a week. Then there were reports of infection in Chicago.

I live in a town of 2,600 people in north-central Illinois called Earlville. My guess is that my home is only about two, maybe three hundred miles southwest of Chicago. My family was hoping that the infection would be contained in Chicago. But sure enough the citizens of Chicago fled in any direction they could manage.

The population of Earlville tripled overnight, we couldn't keep them out. Either one of them was a carrier or actually turned but that doesn't really matter does it? What matters is that in a two hour period, my home town had been completely overrun.

I still remember the look on my mothers face when my father turned and attacked her. It will haunt me for eternity.

We had been sitting at the dinner table discussing what to do if the infection were to reach Earlville, when he suddenly slumped in his chair. My mother thought he'd had a heart-attack, but then he suddenly leapt at her. His eyes were glowing a bright yellow as he clawed, bit and scratched at my mother. I ran into the living room and grabbed my metal baseball bat.

I was too late.

The zombie that was once my father got off my mother and charged me. I didn't hesitate. Sidestepping, I swung the bat around as hard as I could. I hit him right on the bridge of the nose. His face gave way with a crunch not unlike that of a tree branch snapping before he fell to ground with a meaty slap.

Before I could shed any tears for my parents' lives, I heard a screech from my left. I turned to find my mother coming at me, her eyes the same color my fathers had been. I took two steps back before bringing the bat down on her head. That same crunch of wood echoed through the room before she too fell to ground, dead.

I collapsed right there and cried. I was crying so hard that I nearly choked on my own snot. That brought me back to earth. I may not have been able to give them a proper burial, but I'll burn in hell before I let them die without being honored.

I brought their bodies down to the basement and laid them side by side, arms crossed over their hearts.

I looked at my father, at his thinning, graying but still brown hair, parted in the middle and pushed back, his near gray mustache. What was left of his face was contorted in the mindless rage that possessed him to attack his own family. He wore a flannel and jeans, just like every other day. Memories of all the time me and my Father had spent together bombarded me, and I collapsed to the ground. I had thought it was hard when Danny died in a car accident five years ago. That was nothing compared to what I felt then.

I stayed there, on my knees, crying over the life I had just lost for what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes. When I stood to leave, I considered looking at my mother. But just the thought made me shed tears. I left the basement and never looked back.

My cat, Cali, a shortened form of calico, since that's what she is, rubbing on my legs and purring loudly brought me back to the present. I looked down at her and smiled.

"What do you want Cali?" I reached down and ran my hand from the top of her head to her tail, the way I always pet her. "You want some lovin' eh? Come here" I picked her up and held her, like a baby. She continued to purr as I scratched her head and rubbed her sides.

I was the only one she ever let touch her. Anyone else tried to pull what I'm doing right now and they would lose an eye. Hell, I have scars all across both arms from some of Cali's worst temper tantrums. She decided to oblige my shoulder with yet another scar. It didn't hurt that much. She must want something besides love right now. _Probably hungry the fat little she-devil._ "Okay Cali, lets go check your food bowl." I set her down and walked over to the staircase connecting the upper level of the library with the lower level.

Just after my parents turned I realized that my house, with its seven large windows and two glass doors on the first floor, was not safe. I had gathered up all the food that was in the house, there was quite a bit actually, a few weapons and my cat and put them all in the bed of dad's green Dodge RAM. The drive to the library was eventful to say the least. I passed many familiar faces, ran over quite a few too.

_The only face I didn't see was …_

I stopped halfway down the stairs as I realized that I hadn't checked for any other survivors yet. _Dammit! I hope she's alive._ I hurried down the steps and grabbed my solid metal, three foot long ax and ran out to the truck. Before I went anywhere I tied a blue bandana with white patterns onto my face, covering my mouth and nose. I also put on my slate gray hooded sweatshirt and put up the hood. I probably looked pretty damn cool with my combat boots and woodland camouflage cargo pants to finish the ensemble.

But I didn't care. I just wanted to get to Bethany's house before something happened to her. Assuming she isn't already dead. The drive was short, two blocks, over the tracks, first left, one block, turn right, drive past my old house, stop. _Ran over eight zombies, three that I knew._ Don't dwell on what they were, who they were. My eyes pricked and I had to blink away tears to clear my vision.

Looking up at the dilapidated gray-brown house, I couldn't help but remember all the time me and Bethany used to spend playing in our yards as kids. I miss those days. Shaking my head in an effort to throw away all the depressing thoughts, I grabbed my ax and got out, leaving the engine running. There used to be an old man in a wheelchair that lived here, so naturally there is a very long ramp built into the front porch. I sprinted up it and rather than open the door, bashed it in with my shoulder.

_Damn! It smells like death in here._ Looking around I found myself in the living room. Even before the infection this house had been a mess, but now it looked like Satan himself had gone insane and ran through the place. Rotting food, papers, and dog food were scattered everywhere. And there on, and near, the couch were what I could only assume were the mutilated remains of Bethany's family. _They never stood a chance._ They were eviscerated, whole limbs, arms legs, torn from their sockets and thrown across the room, leaving behind jagged weeping wounds. Their torsos more closely resembled raw hamburger than actual flesh, intestines pulled from them and laid out for the world to see. I looked long enough to ascertain that Bethany's body was not among that meat nest before turning away and clamping my eyes firmly shut. _Don't vomit, for the love of God don't…_ My stomach wouldn't listen. I pulled my bandana down just before emptying myself onto the floor bracing my arm against the wall for support. I shook my head, wiped my arm on my sleeve and turned towards the staircase on the side of the room opposite the couch.

The infected aren't attracted by voices, usually, so I risked a call into the house.

"Bethany! Are you okay? Where are you?" I yelled as loudly as my throat would allow. A few tense, anxious, seconds passed before I got a response.

"Elliott? Is that you? I'm in my room." Rather than respond, I ran up through the living room nearly slipping in a liquid I would rather not identify, up the stairs, and down the hall to her room. It surprised me that I could remember where her room was, having been there only twice. When I got to the door, I tried to open it but found it locked.

"Bethany, unlock the door. Please" I heard a clank as she complied and I stepped into her room, shutting the door behind me. I turned and was surprised to see that she was crying. She had always struck me as being a strong, independent young woman. Tears didn't look right on her, but she was smiling. She had her long brown hair pulled back into a pony tail, which was pulled through the back of a baseball cap. Her mocha skin contrasted nicely with the pink and white tee shirt she had on. And her long legs were nice and snug in her tight jeans.

_Fuck, I'm checking her out. Now is not the time Elliott, now is not the time._

"Are you okay?" I asked, pulling my bandana back down so that she could see my face, and how happy I looked to see her.

"Yeah. Turns out I'm immune." She held out her left arm to show me that there was a very bloody looking bandage on her wrist. I grabbed her hand and examined the bandage more closely. It had stopped the bleeding at least, but it would need to be changed soon, if not yesterday.

"That's good. I would hate to have to kill you." What the hell possessed me to say that? I released her hand and looked up at her face. She was smiling even more now. _Either she thinks what I said is funny ... or she's loosing it._ "Now let's get out of here."

As I turned, she spoke, her voice impetuous. "And where are we going to go?"

I spoke without turning towards her. "The library. I set up a camp of sorts there. Now let's go, I'm getting nervous." I opened the door, "oh, one more thing." I turned back to her and put up my bandana. "Don't look in the living room." I turned back around and strode down the hall to the stairs, where I turned back to make sure she was following. She was right behind me so I practically ran down the stairs, past the living room and out the door. I stopped and checked my surroundings. Eight zombies that I could see, none of them close enough to cause concern. Bethany was still on my heels. _She has always run faster than me, I won't lose her. _I jogged down the ramp to the truck, opening the passenger side door, jumping in and climbing over to the driver side.

I turned towards Bethany and yelled "Get in. Hurry!" She climbed in and closed the door just as I threw the truck into reverse and backed out into the street. I threw it into drive and practically flew down the street. She let out a weird squeak when the surrounding zombies charged the truck. I patted the wheel, "Don't worry, this truck is tough." With that I barreled back the way I'd come. I slammed on the brakes when we reached the library, coming to a stop on the lawn. "Stay in the truck while I deal with the stragglers." I got out and slammed the door shut.

Turning towards the small mob that had followed us I spread my feet and gripped the axe more tightly. Within seconds the first one had reached me. I raised the axe and slammed it down into the zombie right where the shoulder meets the neck. I saw another coming from my right and ripped the axe free and allowed the energy of that action to carry the back of the axe into that zombies head, effectively crushing it. From my left another zombie rushed me and I brought the axe around and cleaved its head off at the shoulders, a fountain of blood spraying out of its neck as it fell to the ground.

I felt some of that blood land on my face but didn't give it a second thought. I continued the deadly dance until I stood alone, covered in blood from head to toe. I looked down at the back of my right hand where a three inch gash cut across it, oozing blood. I didn't even feel it. I still don't. _If I'm not immune I've only got a few hours left._

I walked up to the truck and pulled the door open to find a wide-eyed, open-mouthed Bethany staring at me. A slightly arrogant grin broke across my face under the bandana. "Is it really that surprising that I know what I'm doing?" She shook her head and hopped out of the truck. Together we jogged up the stairs and into the library.

I held the door for her and said, "Ladies first." Chivalry will not die because of some zombie apocalypse. I am living proof of that.

_Authors Note: _I went through and changed some things. I hope the new edition is better. I already have the next chapter written and I'll upload it when the next one is done. It should only be a few days. A week tops.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I went and got impatient, so here is the next chapter._

Five minutes later found Bethany and me sitting cross-legged on the storage room floor. It had once been the office for the librarian but I had converted it into storage, leaving boxes of scavenged supplies, maps, and ammo that wouldn't fit in the cab of the truck piled up along the wall. A box marked _Medical Supplies_ in big red letters lay open between us and I had effectively bandaged my hand and redone the shitty job Bethany had done wrapping her own wound. I hadn't noticed earlier that she had used a strip of dirty bed sheets for the bandage. _If she is immune there's no saying a regular infection won't kill her._ That's true, and speaking of infections, I looked down at my hand where the bandage had done a terrific job of stopping the bleeding, and sighed. _One is not enough. I need to find more survivors._

"Bethany," she raised her head from examining the dirty floor to me, and the look on her face almost made me reconsider what I was going to say next, she looked so terrified, but after a moment I plowed on. "I am going out to search for other survivors." I got to my feet and turned to leave, but halted when I heard her speak.

"Don't leave me alone!" She practically screamed it at me. I felt an inexplicable anger swell in me at her words and very nearly turned and cut her fucking head off. _If she holds me back I swear to God I will…_ I cut myself off, mumbling under my breath. "_No!_ Elliott she is, _could be_, your only comrade. Be nice for fucks sake." I pinched my eyes shut while I spoke in an attempt to calm down. It didn't help all that much.

"The food and water is up the stairs to the left. Beds are everywhere, pick one." My voice was clipped and monotone. "Medical supplies are under my bed, upstairs and to the right." I turned to her finally. "Anything else?" That was about as nice as I could get it, keeping my face devoid of emotion.

_Ooohh! She looks mad Elliott! Better be careful. _I was right, she looked furious, her brows scrunched together adorably and her… _Adorably Elliott? Really?_ I hissed so quietly that Bethany couldn't hear, "shut the fuck _up_!"

She opened her mouth and out poured the strongest, most determined voice I have ever heard. "I am coming with you." I raised my brows at that; she just glared at me even harder before standing and elaborating. "You may be able to handle yourself, but what if you find someone and they're hurt?" She moved closer to me and poked me hard in the chest. "What will you do when the zombies are breathing down your neck while you try to open your truck door with a person across your shoulder?"

"Good points now let's go!" We are wasting time here, people could be dying. _GOD DAMMIT! Why did I not do this earlier? People died because I was too…_ too what? I was prepared, I have weapons, food, water, shelter, hell I've even got fucking _transportation_! What was stopping me? Oh yeah that's right, I was _scared_! I was scared and got people killed because of it! _Later Elliott! Now is not the time for this breakdown! GO!_

I shook my head of my thoughts and turned, heading out the door and straight to the truck. The area was still clear enough that I had no base for my concern, but I was concerned nonetheless. I tried shove my feeling of unease away as I threw open the door to the truck, hopped in and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life just as Bethany leaped into the passenger seat, pulling her door closed at the same time I shut mine. _Old Beast's as reliable as ever._ The thought made me smile a little. I handed my axe to Bethany, but rather than take it she gave me a questioning stare, so I reached behind the seat to grab another weapon for myself. _Hmmm… _Behind the seat I had stored four Colt .45 pistols, two pump action Mossberg 500 shotguns, and every bit of ammo I had gotten out of the police station down the road. Oddly enough there had been an M1 Garand rifle from the second world war in the evidence room. _I should stick with something light. Ah! I got it, machete and Colt .45!_ I fumbled around for a bit to find the ammo, and when I did I shoved as many clips onto myself as I could. As always it didn't feel like enough. _I need a coat with more pockets._

"Chase is alive." I had just been about to put the truck in reverse and peel out of there when she spoke up. She sounded relieved; almost like that knowledge had been a burden on her mind for some time.

I turned to her, shock evident on my face. "Are you sure? How do you know?" I shook my head, hard and fast, trying to focus. "Where is he?" Chase is my best friend. If there is even a remote possibility that he's alive I will go through hell to get him. To put it bluntly, I love the guy.

"He's at his mom's house. Cell phones still work you know." She gave me a condescending look at her second statement. I rolled my eyes and got the truck moving, pulling off the curb and onto the road before throwing it into drive and flying down the road towards Chase's house.

"Give me your phone." I held my hand out impatiently while she dug around in her pockets. Just as I was losing my patience I felt a smooth object get slapped roughly into my palm. I smirked a little at her show of attitude. Flipping it open I dialed Chase's number as fast as I could so as to _not_ run us off the road. _Killing zombies is easy, but dialing and driving is oh so hard isn't it Elliott?_ A few seconds ticked by before it even started ringing.

_Ring._

Come on.

_Ring._

Answer dammit.

_Ring._

FUCK!

I heard a faint click before a breathless, yet still infuriated, voice answered. "I thought I told you to stop calling unless you could actually help us." I knew immediately that this voice wasn't Chase.

"Adam! Son of a bitch." I let out a sigh of relief before continuing. "Why do you have Chase's phone?" _He took it off of Chase's corpse when it started ringing._ Shut up inner voice, I do not need this shit right now.

"Chase is busy shooting zombies that's why!" Just then I heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. It sounded like a rifle but I couldn't be sure. "We're trapped in Chase's barn. Those _things_ have us surrounded, we can't get down. Let alone to a fucking vehicle. We. Are. Stuck" I glared at the road ahead of us, my mouth turning down at this unwelcome turn of events. I was forced to slow down while I maneuvered around some very tight curves.

"Me and Bethany are on the way. We should-"

He cut me off. "On _foot_? That's suicide!" Another gunshot in the background had me flinching.

I continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Be there in five minutes. I have a truck. When I swing by the house grab all your shit and jump into the back. You'll have to be ready; I don't know how long I can sit still waiting for your whale of an ass." What can I say? When I get nervous I make jokes.

He chuckled at that, it was a nervous sound. "Whatever! Just hurry the fuck up!" I heard another couple gunshots in the background, some sounding close enough to be coming from a handgun in Adam's hand. "I got to go. Shit just hit the fan!" The line went dead.

"Fuck!" I pressed harder into the accelerator now that we were past the curvy part of the road into the country and on a long straight-away. It should take less than three minutes to get there at this speed.

"What is going on over there? Are they okay?" I glanced at Bethany, she sounded very near panic. What I saw in her face just confirmed that suspicion. I held the phone out to her before returning my eyes to the road.

When I spoke my voice sounded strained, and with good reason, "They are in the barn, surrounded by enough infected to make an approach on foot suicidal." I cleared my throat and when I continued I sounded calmer, even though I was far from it. "They're going to jump in the back." I threw my thumb over my shoulder to enunciate my point.

Surveying the road ahead of us I spotted the trees lining the Woolman residence. Even from this distance I could see the infected swarming around each other in an attempt to reach my friends. _That's a bad sign._

"Lock the door Bethany, this could get messy."

_Authors note: Does that count as a cliffhanger? *evil laughter* Read and review guys._


	3. Chapter 3

As we reached the house I was able to grasp just how many infected were swarming around, violence their only thought. There had to be at least a hundred, hundred and fifty of them, at _least_. The ancient looking Barn in the back of the property their collective target. _At least, that is, until they hear us coming. _I glanced at the colt resting by my thigh. That won't be enough.

I turned my eyes to Bethany. I had to shout to be heard over the screaming of the infected just ahead of us, and approaching quickly. "Take my pistol and grab me a shotgun and an ammo belt from behind the seat." I leaned forward as she pushed the back of the seat forward. She came back up and handed me the shotgun. I set it down between my legs, barrel pointed skyward. I then grabbed one end of the ammo belt with my left hand and, in one smooth motion, drew it around me. _I feel better now._

As we drew closer the outer ranks of the infected, sensing our presence, turned in unison, and charged at the truck. The screams grew louder now, as we drew ever closer to the inevitable impact with the multi-cellular organism that is the infection. _They are no longer individuals, they are just a tool, a toy to be used, abused, broken, and discarded by the infection._ I knew that accepting that as the truth, hard as it may be, would make killing them easier to deal with. My hands tensed on the wheel, preparing myself for the inevitable collision of flesh and metal. I almost closed my eyes. Almost.

And finally, collision.

The truck gave a lurch as the first line of infected slammed into the hood, denting the metal and spraying blood onto the windshield in a torrent. I reached over and flicked on the windshield wipers just as a mutilated mass of flesh that was once human rolled over the hood and slammed into the windshield, sending a multitude of spider webbing cracks throughout the glass. I was distantly aware that Bethany was screaming. I didn't let up on the accelerator as I threw the wheel to the left, sending the truck barreling across the road and into the yard. We were within a hundred yards of the barn and I could see a patch of bright red sticking out of the second story window. _Chase! Is that a rifle?_ The weapon bucked in his hands just as an infected head exploded next to the passenger side window. _Damn he's one hell of a shot._ As we flew across the lawn I had to struggle to keep the truck going in a straight line as we went over, under, and through the ravenous horde.

I could see that the barn doors were open, the interior empty if you ignored the large number of infected swarming towards the ladder on the right side. Slamming through the mass of flesh and into the barn I stopped the truck just a few feet from the ladder. Craning my head around I saw the path of destruction the truck had left in its wake; dozens of bodies mangled, torn, crushed and left bleeding on the lawn, a streak of blood leading right up to the tailgate. Pride rose up in me out of nowhere. _I did that. Solche schone Zerstorung! Wow._ Tearing my eyes from the carnage I had created and scanning the area I saw that the horde was not hesitating, but were still charging towards us with the same vigor as before. _Mindless insects, all of them._

"Fuck! Bethany, take the wheel and get us out of here the moment Adam and Chase are in the truck." I turned to her and the absolute terror etched into every groove of her face sent a spike of worry, and white hot rage, through me. "Leave early and I will kill you myself." Even to me the venom in my voice, the conviction of that threat was horrifying.

I turned towards the window in the back of the cab and wrenched it open as fast as I could before throwing my shotgun, and another fully loaded one, out onto the bed with a dull thump. The screams of the infected were truly terrifying in their intensity as I pulled my upper half out through the window. Allowing gravity to take me I fell to the ground, ripping my legs from the cab and out into the open.

I laid on my back for no more than three seconds. I reached to my left, grabbing my shotgun and then pushing myself up and onto my feet. Bringing the gun up I leveled the sight on the advancing horde and squeezed the trigger.

I may have never fired a gun of that size before, but with the amount of adrenaline coursing through me I barely felt the recoil. I worked the pump and let another spray of buckshot tear into the crowd before me. Chunks of flesh, even whole limbs were torn from their bodies as I mercilessly fired and worked the action again, again, again, and again. I had somehow managed to remember to swivel as I shot in order to lay down a line of fire. It wasn't working very well, but it would keep them back long enough for Adam and Chase to _get their asses down here_.

I went to fire again but the gun only gave out a pathetic click. _Fuck me!_ As I fumbled to reload I looked up at the ladder to see Adam already half way down with Chase at the top, his eye glued to his scope, finger squeezing every half second. I looked back at Adam and he was pointing behind me, his mouth moving as he yelled something at me.

Even with the unending screams of the infected surrounding us, I was able to hear him.

"They're climbing in behind you!"

I shoved the last shell into the chamber and spun around, bringing the butt of the gun around in front of me to smash into the nearest infected face. Its rage stricken face gave in with a slapping sound and it crumpled to the ground. I took two steps back as I pumped the gun in my hands, finally getting it ready to fire. I leveled it on the nearest zombie and, with a scream of rage tearing from between my lips, squeezed the trigger.

Its head exploded at the same time, showering the crowd behind it with bits of bone and gray matter. I tuned my scream down to a guttural growl as I swiveled to the next infected. It shared a similar fate as the one before it did.

The truck shuddered as new weight was suddenly added to it. Whipping my head around I saw Adam grabbing the other shotgun off the floor and firing into the crowd around us without even attempting to aim. _I must teach him how to conserve ammo._ _Later though, we have bigger problems right now!_

Turning my own attention back to the crowd around the truck I let loose another volley of buckshot into their ranks. Not ten seconds later and Adam swore loudly, throwing his gun onto the ground just as I was beginning to reload. _Why didn't I give him more shot-shells?_ His hands fly around to the back of his pants and produce two sleek black Glocks. Wasting no time he raises both hands, fire erupting from the gun in his right hand, then his left, right, left, right left over and over again until all he gets is a dull clicking sound. In a move so fast I almost missed it he reached into his pocket, grabbed two more clips, slammed them into their new homes, and he was firing again. The whole time he was doing that my own gun had clicked, and I had been doing my own version of that dance. Pumping the first shell into the chamber just as Chase is making his way down the ladder. _Must give him more time!_

"Die you sons of bitches! Get the _fuck_ away from me!" Adam's voice only barely audible over the screaming of the infected around us even though he must have been screaming at the top of his lungs. The shotgun was bucking in my hands as I threw death itself at the oncoming horde. Chase jumped down the last few feet, absorbing the fall with his knees, and then he too is spitting fire alongside Adam and I.

Fortunately Bethany was paying attention because the moment Chase had his footing, the truck practically flew backward into the sea of flesh not but a few feet away. Some of the infected grabbing onto the back end and clinging to it, all the while their hands swipe the air between us, desperate to claw at us, rip our flesh apart, maybe even eat us. _Now you know that they don't eat people. _I hadn't seen one eating, well, anything ever since the outbreak started. _Doesn't matter now, focus Elliott!_ Snapping out of my thoughts I noticed that one infected in particular was still hanging on to the back end. Although by that point we were already moving forward, back towards town.

I looked at Adam, then Chase, to see if either of them was planning on dislodging the infected woman from _my_ truck. When neither one of them moved, I walked towards the back until only a few feet separated me from the thing on the back end. Raising my foot, I throw the sole of my boot firmly into the zombie's face, throwing it onto the blacktop where it bounced a few times, rolling over itself before coming to a halt. It didn't get up.

"Now that _that's _taken care of, Chase" I turned to the redhead in question "since when do you have a rifle? And where did Adam get the pistols?" I pointed at the rifle on his back then cocked my thumb in Adams direction at the end to enunciate my question.

"My parents bought the rifle about a week ago. Adam had the pistols when he showed up at my house." Chase sounded completely exhausted, waving his hand in Adams direction before sitting down, his back resting against the side of the truck, rifle now in his lap.

I turned to Adam with a raised eyebrow. "Showed up?"

He just shrugged. "I was at my Dad's when the shit hit." I waited for him to continue, and when he just looked at me, face as blank and staring as a statue, I realized something. _They both lost their family. Fuck I never thought about that_. My hand moved to rub the back of my neck while I suddenly found the passing fields very interesting. _You uncaring asshole! Selfish! Don't pry, for the love of God don't pry into what happened._ I let the conversation drop.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

_Authors Note_: I must leave it there for I am tired of writing today and this seems to be large enough to post. Thanks to those that reviewed. Without reviews I cannot go on! Next chapter and the following updates may take awhile as I haven't even started writing them yet. And, due to a writing style change on my part, the rest of the story will be in the present tense, not the past tense. I don't know _why_ I was writing in past tense anyway.

If you don't review zombies will come and do zombie things to you!


	4. Chapter 4

The library was silent but for the sounds of the infected outside. The others had fallen asleep hours ago but I lingered in the waking world, reading Dante's Divine Comedy, with the help of a full moon, to try and relax.

It wasn't working.

_Fuck it._ Putting the book down on my sleeping bag, I got up and walked over to the railing overlooking the first floor and leaned on it. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh I listened to the sounds outside.

The infected were louder than usual, more active than I could remember them being at night. Several of them were still beating on the front doors, but they don't have a chance at getting through. The doors are made of heavy steel _and_ they open outwards. But the fact that they are still there is disconcerting; they usually dispersed after an hour or so after I went out.

_They know. _Know what? _That you're here, and they're coming for you. _Fuck me. I sighed and looked down at my feet. The voice in my head had never been wrong before. We're going to have to relocate. _Shit!_ Relocating myself would be easy, but now there are four of us that need to move _and you hope to get more later, so you need the space_. Right, and there's that. But where could we go? The library was the only place I thought would ever make a decent fortress. _Torres didn't agree. _Ah, Torres, the man that taught me everything I know about zombie survival. He took me under my wing almost four years ago now, convinced me that he wasn't just a paranoid mad man or a delusional stoner, and gave me the tools and knowledge I've used to survive. The guy thought that the nearby grain towers would make a good fortress … and he's probably there right now with a group of his own. Damn I haven't been thinking very much lately, have I? _No you have not, now what's the plan? _Well that's easy; get in touch with Torres, if we can't stay with him we have to find another –the school! It's a complex unto itself, has doors that are stronger than the library's, reinforced windows, and more rooms than you could shake a stick at! Why didn't I think of that sooner?

_Children zombies_. I physically recoiled at the thought. Yeah, that could do it. We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. But first things first: Torres _and sleep motherfucker, go to sleep._ I nodded, tired all of a sudden, and went back to bed.

The next morning was heralded by the usual moaning and grunting of pacified infected. Thank god they forgot about us finally. The sunlight was coming in from a nearly horizontal angle; casting long shadows across the floor of the library, and across the sleeping mats I had set up for my friends downstairs. I got some fresh bandages from the store room and brought them to the bathroom down the hall to wash the wound on my hand. The fresh bandages felt good. I also grabbed a change of clothes. Yesterday taught me something: carry as much ammo as humanly possible, and my hoodie simply doesn't have the space I need. An olive green safari jacket I found in the corner upstairs, along with the rest of the stuff I hadn't sorted through yet, should do the trick.

In our rush to get to safety yesterday we'd brought the weapons inside with us. Why I'd been keeping them in the truck was beyond me. _In case you had to bail and didn't have the time to grab much._ Right, right. Of course, it was my contingency plan. But with four in the group, and plans to find more of my friends, I'm going to need a ride with more room. And gas mileage.

Making my way downstairs, my machete and the Colt on each hip bumping against my thigh with each step, I considered breakfast. Granola bars should do it. I grabbed two for each of us before moving to wake up my friends.

I started with Bethany. Shaking her gently and telling her to "wake up" must have interrupted a nightmare, because she woke up screaming bloody murder. I slapped my hand over her mouth to muffle the noise and glared at her.

"Calm down Bethany, you're safe, and you're attracting the attention of every infected in a two block radius." I marveled silently at how cold I had become towards her. Before all this zombie shit we had been like siblings and now … _no time for the past, the future needs considering._ Indeed it does. I looked up at where Adam and Chase had been sleeping to see them standing there with guns in hand and, even though I could see fear in their eyes, I also saw determination.

Bethany was quiet now, looking around wildly like she didn't know where she was. Maybe she didn't. I removed my hand and stoop up, wiping her spit off on my pants as I spoke.

"Sorry about that guys, didn't know she'd wake up screaming." I waved my hand at Bethany's position on the floor at the end. I tossed granola bars at them and dropped two more for Bethany. "Breakfast is served!" And I smiled, and Chase chuckled a bit. Adam just tore his bars open and devoured them with wild abandon.

Good to see those two in good spirits, even for a moment. I walked past them, patting both their shoulders as I passed, and headed for the table in the adjoining room. This room was dominated by a large oak table and chairs with a small computer lab through a door on the right. All the maps of Earlville and the surrounding area I could find upstairs were spread out on the table and covered it in its entirety. The topmost layer was a simple street layout map for Earlville itself, but beneath that I had maps of sewer systems, county roads, state highways, and, on the wall behind the table, a map of the US with all its major roadways, railroads, and waterways. Adam and Chase had followed me in, and I could see Bethany standing just outside the door.

"Torres had always had several plans in place, most of them back-ups to his plan A, and I was checking the validity of them one by one a couple days ago." I gestured to the map on the wall, which had several pins stuck into it seemingly at random. "The pins represent stops, possible locations of a haven, and places where transportation _should_ be easy to find. Fortunately they all, Torres' plans I mean, started the same way: wait out the worst of it in the local grain towers. Finding him and his group, hopefully he has one, should be easy." I turned back to my friends, and for the first time took note of how tired they looked. Adam, being the most athletic of us before, stood the straightest, towering easily a head over the rest of us, his blond hair cut short, though I could see some blood had dried in it. Chase had his hands in his pockets as he looked closer at the map, his eyes roaming it rapidly, accentuating the fact that his left eye can't look left unintentionally. But they both had bags under their eyes, and I could see a sadness lurking under the surface, a sadness I understood too well.

"I was thinking we could go see Torres today, see how him and his group are doing. Then, with their help, we could make the school into a proper fortress."

Adam looked up form studying the sewer maps of Earlville, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Why the school?" For a moment I reveled in hearing his voice without the panic it had in it yesterday. If ever there was a baritone it was Adam Anderson. Chase answered his question for me.

"We can't stay separate if we want to survive, and the school is big enough to fit us all."

"Fuck," Adam spat. "I was hoping for some rest," He shrugged then. "but you have a point."

"We have our weapons with us and most of the ammo I have is in the truck. Get your stuff together, and let me know when you're ready to go." I bent over to examine the sewer maps alongside Adam. "Oh, I was hoping we could walk. It's right down the street and there's no sense wasting the gas." This got murmurs of agreement from the guys, but Bethany protested. Loudly.

"You can't seriously expect us to walk through that shit?!" I looked at her, considered her worth in a fight, and made my decision.

"Me, Adam, and Chase? Yes. You? No. You're staying here." She seemed relieved and so I smiled at her.

I looked back at the guys and saw them grabbing their weapons from yesterday, getting ready for the fight to come. "Don't forget anything guys. Nothing more embarrassing than death by forgetfulness." Thankfully they appreciated my attempt at humor, and the tension in the room lessened significantly as they laughed.

A few minutes later I headed into the storeroom to check on Chase. He'd been in there a while. I opened the door to find Chase rummaging around through a box, several batteries, some wire, and a roll of duct tape scattered around him.

"What are you up to Chase?" He turned back to me with an excited smile.

"Inventing! Lemme see your machete." I could connect the dots, so I pulled my blade out, flipped it around, and handed it to him handle first. He immediately set to work, taping a battery to each side of the blade right above the handle, connecting wires from the batteries to little clamps he then attached to the blunt edge as little sparks danced along the nicks in the sharp edge. Then he wrapped duct tape around the handle and handed it back to me.

"Nice!" I said as I felt the new heft of the blade. It was heavier than before, but that would only give it more power as a weapon. I brought the blade close to my face to examine the electricity arcing along it. "It's fucking beautiful man! Danke!"

Not much later, the Sun had yet to fully crest the horizon, saw the three of us standing across the street from the grain towers. I'd decided to focus on melee combat on the way there, wielding my newly electrified machete in my right hand with a Colt in the left, and my right arm ached from the effort I'd expended so far. In a detached way, the blood staining the sleeve and front of my coat was cool looking. But the blood and the soreness were worth it. The slightest cut with my machete stuns the mother fuckers! Chase is a god damned genius, and I made sure to tell him that. He'd only smiled in response.

The towers stood on the edge of town, with a direct line of sight to the library, train tracks running past them on the far side from the library, gravel making up the yard around them. They were easily the tallest buildings in Earlville, standing straight and brown, easily visible from the nearest town. I had to admit, they would make a great fortress if the ladders on each one didn't provide easy access to the infected. Maybe … just maybe I should reconsider the plan. _Focus._

I did. My attention returned to my friends and myself, and the situation we were currently stuck with. Torres was easily visible at the top of the tower, looking down at us, surrounded by at least five others, all of which I recognized from somewhere. He was glancing between my group, and the group of infected surrounding the base of the towers. _Shit_.

"We can get through to the ladder." Chase said. I shook my head.

"How would we get down?" I asked.

"Good point." Adam said after a moment where the only noise was that of the infected horde in front of us. I took some time to examine the infected. I let my thoughts flow for the sake of my friends.

"The fringe of the group is made up mostly of unfocused infected. We could kill most of them before they notice us if we're fast. So long as the focused ones in the core of the horde don't notice us, and give us a chance to catch our breath, we could prolly kill most of them in a few minutes." I looked at my friends to see if they agreed.

"Works for me." Chase put in.

"Better than nothing." Adam agreed. Well then.

"Let's do this then." I shifted the machete around in my hand, trying to get a better grip. Adam lifted his shotgun, and Chase took aim with the M1 Garand he'd been so excited to find. Adam fired first, the loud boom of his shotgun breaking the relative stillness of the moment, but Chase followed closely behind, the sharper report of his rifle going off in rapid succession only interrupted by the occasional boom as Adam took another shot. The meandering infected on the outside of the horde turned as one towards our group and, with an ear piercing howl, came rushing towards us. Alright then. _Let's fucking do this._

The pistol in my left hand came up, my machete held low and pointing away, and bucked in my hand with each shot as I peppered the horde in front of me, not really bothering with precision so much as volume at this point. I could tell, just from watching the infected, roughly how many kills each of my friends were getting. Those hit with buckshot were obvious; limbs blown off and chests exploded from the force of the shots hitting them as they were thrown backwards in small groups. Others fell with large holes in chests, and the occasional exploded head, the result of the high caliber rounds delivered by Chase's M1 Garand punching through them and into the crowd behind them. My own shots had little effect beyond staggering the infected as they came at us, but when I brought my electrified machete to bear on them they fell in a pile at my feet, some of them still twitching from the electric shock my weapon delivers. Blood splattered across me with every stroke of my weapon arm. I felt something bubbling up within me, some primitive amusement at what was happening, what I was doing. My lips curled up into a smile not unlike the Jokers, and I started laughing as I swung my arm in wild arcs for maximum damage on impact.

Time lost all meaning as the enjoyment of the battle took over, and I sprung forward into the horde while Adam was reloading with another laugh. Many of the infected changed targets; switching their attention from my friends to me. I welcomed them. _Let them come! We will kill them all!_ At some point the pistol had slipped from my left hand, and my bandaged fist joined the fray alongside my legs, lashing out at them as they surrounded me. Their claws slashed across me, but the pain, instead of slowing me, only encouraged me to fight more viciously, hit a little harder, move a little faster. _Yes! YES! Use the pain! Fuel our lust for blood! _Impossibly, my smile widened as the last infected fell broken and bloody at my feet.


End file.
